For everything there is a season

I got this pencil box when I was just a wee lass.  This morning, I went to get a paper clip out of it and it finally gave up the ghost.

 I don't know exactly when I got it, but clearly I wasn't even old enough to write my own name.  And that's the address from where we lived until I was 10.

As I remember it (others might remember it better), it was a Christmas present.  I have no idea why this, of all the things I have received over the years, has stayed with me so long--over more than 30 years and I don't even know how many moves.

You never know what will prove to be precious, do you?

I think it's time to honor it for its 30+ years of faithful service and say goodbye.  What a great little box.

Update: Here's a close-up of the cover of the box.  It's really quite lovely, isn't it?